


No One Should Spend Christmas Alone

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Christmas, Doctor/Patient, Fluff, Hospitalization, Hospitals, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It turns out something is wrong, and the doctor tells them that Kurt has appendicitis. Appendicitis on Christmas Eve. Kurt can’t believe his luck, but, more than that, he can’t believe he has to spend Christmas morning in the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Should Spend Christmas Alone

None of them meant for it to happen, but people rarely mean for bad things to happen. They aren’t planned, and they certainly don’t take things like Christmas into account. So, when Kurt is helping Carole prepare Christmas Eve dinner, he doesn’t think very much of the sudden, dull pain in his stomach. Even when it turns sharp, more focused, he shakes his head and shoos off Carole’s concerns.

It’s not until he throws up that his dad starts to think something of it, but Kurt insists that he’s fine.  _Really_. Even when he starts breathing heavily and clutching his stomach due to the pain. Even when he starts dry heaving.

It’s  _Christmas Eve_ , but Burt forces him into the car (which isn’t hard—Finn practically has to carry him at that point) and drives him to Lima Memorial.

Kurt wants to argue, really he does, he has to make the pies for tomorrow, but every time he even contemplates opening his mouth, a wave of nausea overtakes him. Curled up in the front seat of his dad’s SUV, he begins to think that, yeah, maybe something is wrong.

*

It turns out something  _is_  wrong, and the doctor tells them that Kurt has appendicitis. Appendicitis on  _Christmas Eve_. Kurt can’t believe his luck, but, more than that, he can’t believe he has to spend Christmas morning in the hospital. Before he even goes into surgery, his dad says he’ll head home to get some stuff for the night.

"You’re not spending Christmas Eve by yourself."

Kurt can hardly think, but he knows he doesn’t like the idea of his dad spending Christmas Eve in the hospital at all—much less than Kurt likes the idea of spending it there himself.

"Go home," he insists, weakly. “I’m just going to be asleep tonight. Go home and come back in the morning with Carole and Finn."

"I’m not leaving you," Burt insists.

"Dad, I’ll be  _asleep_." Kurt knows he’s pleading now, doesn’t want his dad hunched over in a chair while Kurt sleeps soundly through the night. “Think of it as a Christmas present."

"That’s not fair, buddy."

But Kurt can tell it’s the edge he needed.

If his dad stays until he gets out of surgery, Kurt never really knows. They put him under, and that’s the last thing he remembers before things go out. He knows when he opens his eyes again, it’ll be to his family bringing Christmas morning to his hospital room.

*

It’s dark out when, presumably, the anesthesia wears off and Kurt finds himself waking up. He shouldn’t be, it’s obviously the middle of the night, but that doesn’t stop his eyes from opening. The room isn’t completely dark, dim lighting letting Kurt make out another (thankfully empty) bed and machinery. He already feels better than he did before the surgery, but that makes sense—after all he doesn’t have an inflamed organ in his body anymore.

Kurt groans, rubbing at his face, wrinkling his nose when he thinks of the fact that he didn’t have a chance to wash his face. On top of that, he doesn’t have a clean pair of clothes to change into when they discharge him in the morning, and… Yep, he doesn’t have his phone. He should probably feel more exhausted, but he doesn’t, and he can’t even locate the remote for the TV (not that anything would be on at this time of night, but it’s better than listening to the whir and beeps of the machines).

"Oh."

Kurt jolts in bed, startled, because he doesn’t really expect voices when he’s staring at a wall. He turns his head, and a man dressed in scrubs is in his doorway.

"I didn’t expect you to be up," he says pleasantly, walking in and tapping a clipboard against his hip.

"I really don’t want to be," Kurt groans, wishing his pillow was softer. The nurse (because he must be a nurse, right?) suddenly looks alarmed.

"Are you alright, Mr. Hummel? Are you experiencing any pain?"

"Please don’t call me that," Kurt responds, almost on a reflex, and then shakes his head. “No, I just woke up and I can’t get back to sleep." Will they drug him for that?

"But no pain?" The nurse asks, and Kurt nods.

"No pain. I feel fine." Kurt waves his hand dismissively, and the nurse smiles again, and nods.

"Well then, Mr. Humm—"

"Kurt."

The nurse looks surprised, and Kurt has stopped thinking about being in the hospital enough to realize that, well, his nurse is kind of dreamy.

"My name is Kurt."

"Well, Kurt. Your fever seems to have broken while you were sleeping, and, given you don’t experience anymore discomfort, you should be able to leave when your family comes in a few hours."

"What time is it?" Why don’t they have clocks in hospital rooms?

"A little past four."

Kurt groans again—he’s going to be  _exhausted_.

"It’s Christmas," he mutters into the nearly empty room, and then turns to his nurse. “Merry Christmas." His nurse smiles again—he seems to smile quite a lot—but Kurt likes it. It’s the sort of smile that’s genuine.

"And a Merry Christmas to you." His nurse resumes checking things over on his clipboard, and Kurt watches him for lack of anything better to do. But he seems friendly enough, and Kurt is bored—it doesn’t hurt to talk to him, does it?

"Do you not celebrate?" The nurse looks up, confused, and Kurt shrugs the best he can in the hospital bed. “Christmas, that is."

"Oh. No, I do." The nurse walks around to the other side of his bed, and Kurt flips his head to watch him. “I’m an intern, and no one else offered to work these hours, so… I volunteered."

Kurt’s eyebrows shoot up.

"Really?" Kurt isn’t sure there’s anything that could make him give up Christmas with his family, but he doesn’t know this man or anything about him. He just nods, eyebrows dropped low as he concentrates. “What’s your name?"

"Hmm?" The nurse finishes jotting something down, and then looks over at him. “Oh! I didn’t even tell you, did I?" He looks immediately sheepish. “I’m sorry. Normally remember. I’m Dr. Anderson."

Kurt raises his eyebrows again.

"…well, doctor in  _training_." Dr. Anderson shrugs sheepishly. “The kids call me Dr. Blaine, though."

"So is that inviting me to call you Dr. Blaine?" Kurt can’t help but smile, and, okay, he’s flirting a  _little_.

"I think we know each other well enough now that you can probably drop the  _doctor_."

Kurt’s  _mouth_  almost drops; is Blaine flirting  _back?_

"Do we?" Kurt asks, voice breathy with surprise, and he can feel his cheeks heat—at least he knows it’s not his fever returning.

"I, uh." He looks away, suddenly flustered. “I need to finish my rounds. But I’ll come back?"

"That would be nice," Kurt responds, genuinely. “No one likes to be alone on Christmas."

Blaine smiles again, taking a few steps towards the door, but then he stops, swirls around, and drops the TV remote on Kurt’s bed with an accomplished nod before he leaves.

*

There’s nothing on TV, much like Kurt anticipated. But he does find one of those “burning log" channels, and it’s relaxing to listen to the instrumental Christmas music over the crackle of a fake fire. He fades in and out of consciousness a few times, but it never seems to be for more than a few minutes.

Blaine makes good on his word. He comes in several more times through the course of the morning, but the instances are never for very long. They talk about bits and pieces of things—when Blaine’s shift ends and he gets to go home, how much work Kurt has to do throughout the day for Christmas dinner. They talk about favorite carols, and even sing along with “The Christmas Song" when it plays on the TV.

Kurt doesn’t mean to just talk about the holiday, but he can’t seem to help it. Maybe it’s just the general feeling in the air that comes with Christmas, or the way Blaine gets excited when he talks about it—although it’s probably the Christmas music, really.

"The idea of people spending Christmas in the hospital always makes me sad," Blaine says, perching on the arm of a chair but not sitting down. “I think that’s why I volunteered to work. To keep people company. To give them some Christmas cheer."

"Well…" Kurt says, shifting a little restlessly. “I’m only one patient, but I’d say you’re doing very well."

"Well,  _Kurt_." And every time Blaine says his name, it’s always so enunciated, like a reminder that he’s addressing Kurt casually rather than by his last name. “That’s probably the best Christmas gift I could ask for."

*

His family doesn’t bring Christmas to him, but they do all come, Finn still dressed in his pajamas and looking like he was dragged out of bed.

"How you feeling?" His dad asks.

"Better. Hopefully well enough that I can go home and we can have a Christmas morning."

He is, at least, the doctor deems him well enough to go home, given he, “takes it easy," and, “comes back if any symptoms return."

Funnily enough, Blaine ends up being the person to wheel Kurt out of the hospital (even though he does not  _need_  a wheelchair, thank you very much). Kurt isn’t sure if it’s coincidence, but the slight smirk in Blaine’s smile tells Kurt that there’s more to it all.

"Thank you," Kurt says quietly, his dad having gone to get the car and Carole and Finn a few steps ahead of them.

"I don’t think I’m a particularly good wheelchair attendant, but you’re welcome either way."

"Not that, I mean… For keeping me company. Thank you."

Blaine is quiet, and Kurt wonders if maybe he overstepped some sort of boundary, but then Blaine says, “then I should thank you, too." And Kurt thinks maybe he hasn’t been reading things too wrong.

They’re stopped at the curb when Kurt turns in the chair to look at Blaine, wishing he was dressed in something that wasn’t yesterday’s leftovers (although it’s certainly better than the hospital gown).

"Well, if you’re ever in the hospital again, be sure to say hi." Blaine blanches. “Not that… I want you to be in the hospital again."

"I’ll try my best not to lose anymore appendixes," Kurt jokes, and Blaine cracks a smile. “But if this isn’t completely unprofessional… Maybe we could meet for coffee sometime? Talk about things  _other_  than Christmas, preferably while I’m not bedridden?"

Blaine laughs, looking wonderfully and happily surprised.

"Sure, um…"

"Let me see your pen?"

There’s one clipped to Blaine’s pocket, and he hands it over.

"Be sure to write this down and then wash your hands. What will the other doctors say?" Kurt teases, writing his number down on Blaine’s palm. He hands the pen back, and Blaine stares at the number with a strange look on his face.

Kurt’s dad pulls up, and him and Finn move to help Kurt from the wheelchair to the car (much to his annoyance).

"Have a good Christmas,  _Dr. Anderson_ ," Kurt says from the car once he’s situated, and Blaine’s lips twitch as if he wants to laugh. He gives a cordial bow of his head, and then a friendly wave to Kurt’s family.

"You, too,  _Mr. Hummel_."


End file.
